Faux Pas
by Striped-Tie
Summary: Sometimes the strongest people are the ones that have fought for the peace that's in their lives. Before The Mansion Incident, S.T.A.R.S and even her Delta Force training, she'd learned to be strong. Just a story of Jill's late teens. Genre unsure XD
1. There's Honour Among Thieves

A/N;

Man. I love putting poor Jill through shit. I'm gonna feel real bad about it one day. That and messing around with the apparent non existent mother of hers. Oh Drama.

I might end up having another go at writing this at some point – While fleshing it out I feel like I've killed it DX _Bleh_. At least let me write _something_ decent.

Jill Valentine and the Resident Evil franchise belongs to Capcom.

Dick Valentine is mentioned in S. D. Perry's Novels of the series.

* * *

She was just about a hundred short. Just a measly one hundred dollars.

She slammed her fist against the kitchen counter, the silver coins in her hand barely staying between her clenched fingers. No matter how many times she counted them out, over and over again, there was never enough. Even after turning the apartment upside down, there still wasn't enough.

"Dad, why did you have to be so stupid…?"

The young Jill Valentine threw the coins onto the counter, leaving for the chair on the other side of the kitchen. She slumped down roughly onto it, the rickety structure nearly giving out.

She stayed there only a few moments, the chair and her mind both rather uncomfortable. Thoughts refused to stay in the place designated for them at the back of her mind, worries of new and old, distastes towards people that had pushed them all to this life. She pushed the bitter thoughts out of her mind and stood up; walking the few steps it took to get to the lounge room.

The apartment was small, and in utter shambles after her rampage. Nothing was in the right spot, and she was surprised the aging couch hadn't wound up in the hallway – Or out the window. She'd have to clean all of it up before her father got back home.

She sighed, sitting down tiredly on the mentioned couch and running her hands through her hair. If he could _get_ back home. A small slip up had seen him being thrown into jail until Jill, once again, managed to pay the bail. Usually the jobs were clean and quick, but an alarm had just been installed before they had a chance to double check the premises.

That one simple alarm was coming back to haunt her. She should have done another check, she should have told him to be more careful. She should have done something, anything. Beating herself up over it was getting her nowhere and she knew it.

She leaned against the back of the couch. She threw a glance to the short hallway the lead to the two bedrooms and bathroom as a shadow passed by it. A dog of unknown heritage was taking his time, wondering from room to room. As much as she loved the mongrel, she dreaded the thought of sharing her time only with it until she thought of something.

Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She could feel the panic steadily rise in her chest, the tears welling up to her eyes. It wasn't as if this hadn't happened before, but it was the first time that the bail money couldn't be scraped together.

"Stop, Jill." She warned herself sternly, shutting her eyes tightly. "_Think_. You can do this. Despite what everyone says, you're quite smart. Just take a deep breath and start thinking. Dad'll be fine, you need to think, not act right now."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, grabbing the remote from the coffee table in front of her and flicking the TV onto the news. She was hoping so much that they hadn't made the broadcast – It was the last thing they needed, it was difficult enough to live as was. The screen whirred on, showing only static snow as she clicked for different channels. A few things flashed on screen, all seemingly uninteresting.

At just Seventeen she felt like she was drawing closer to her inevitable death far too quickly. Somehow the thought of it failed to give her the suffocating feeling it would for most, and while it initially worried her, she became used to her lack of care about it all.

She turned the TV off, tossing the remote the remote to the opposite end of the couch and got up once more. She couldn't manage to stay still, both energy and what seemed like adrenaline too thickly pumping through her veins.

By all means she should have been looking at the living area in disgust. Anyone outside of the district would look about and see it either as plain, though messy, or would turn away as to not associate with something so atrocious.

The walls were a somewhat sickening tan colour, stains from leaking pipes running down certain areas. The carpet that covered the floor was darker near those patches, suffering from heavy set weather just the same. To match the walls, the carpet happened to also be an equally sickening colour. There was no wall that divided the kitchen and the lounge room, there was simply carpet meeting tiles.

The tiles of the kitchen seemed to be the only decently coloured thing in the entire apartment. Although some were cracked, they were far brighter and held a purer colour. Whites and pastel colours here and there, looking as if they almost created a mosaic. They had been set down when she was a little girl, done because of a favour a family friend owed to her father.

The counter was a cream colour, rather high with a few cupboards sown around it. A toaster, breadbox, knife… She had given up keeping the kitchen clean years ago. The fridge hummed melodically, always assuring her that it hadn't broken down just yet. The oven made no noise, but she was secretly always worried it was going to blow up.

She passed over the carpet absent mindlessly, craving the limited stimulation it offered her. She had the mind some hours earlier to take her boots and socks off at the door, the soles of her shoes having been caked in dirt and grime of the streets. The ailing carpet didn't need anymore filth clinging to it, but she could fell ever prick of cut fabric that stuck up from the carpet.

Muttering something under her breath, she switched from the carpet to the tiles once more, jolting slightly from the cold. Step, step, step. It only took a few paces to reach the fridge. Step. Just one step back to open the fridge. Grabbing bottle carton of milk, she closed the door with excess force and leaned against on the kitchen counter one more.

She unscrewed the lid and gulped down some of the white liquid. Within half a second she was throwing up in the sink. Just great, not only did she have an empty stomach now, but she also had no milk to make any coffee.

Just perfect.

She wiped her mouth, having discarded the bottle on the counter. She shook her head, trying to shake the ill feeling away from herself. She decided against trying to wash the taste from her mouth, instead choosing to survey outside from the window. She couldn't keep her mind on one thing.

Just like inside, it looked dreary and rather depressing outside. It had been raining earlier, ad the sun was only just beginning to show itself again. It seemed like that every other day, she concluded, never any change for the better. Just like life here, for that matter.

That was the thing about this place; there were only a few paths you could follow. You could live and die, the most common possibility. Choose what kind of life you can scrounge up and be proud of it. Or, you could hang around, and pray for a knight in shining armour to come save you. The chances of that happening were minimal to say the least, but such things had happened.

And from there, there were two ways go. Go, go and get your hopes up. Then be thrown back into the mess and crawl back to the people that still considered themselves to be your friends. Alternatively, be happy and live a life away from the dreaded streets, forget everything and everyone you knew there. Oh, Jill knew that possibility all too well, having been one of the people abandoned by someone because of it.

She closed her eyes, clenching her fist tightly. The urge to slam her fist through the window was more than enough to tell her to get out of the house before she messed it up even more. A bleeding hand wouldn't do her health any better, she noted.

She grabbed her jacket that had been thrown over the back of the couch, slipping it on with a bit of a struggle. Just like most things, she needed a new one, but it would remain put off for longer. Socks and shoes followed, keys were grabbed and twirled around a finger as the multiple locks on the door were being undone.

She had no idea where she was going to go other than out, but it would have to be. If something was out there, it was more than welcome to come find her.

The cheap smell of cigarette smoke and old coffee that sunk into the walls of the apartment was the scent Jill was most accustom to. Taking a step outside, the somewhat cleaner air burnt her lungs, and knew it would only sting more once she stepped out into the street.

"Feels like I'm living on Skid Road, only there's no alien plant trying to eat everyone." She mumbled quietly, though it was accompanied by a small smile.

As she closed the door behind her, there was a loud slam that echoed down the hallway, followed by a whine. The door could have easily been knocked right off its hinges had there been more of run up.

She turned quickly to the door, shaking her head

"Atlas, you knock the door down and it's going to mean no more food for you."

Another whimpered was earned from this, before Jill fixed her jacket's collar, zipped it up and headed for the outside world.

* * *

A/N;

Yes her dog's name is Atlas. I just got Bioshock a few days ago D: Blame it.


	2. What Can't Be Cured Must Be Endured

A/N;

Pfft short again. Why can't I seem to get anything more in? Eh perhaps it's better – I an update a bit more. I just wish I wasn't set on writing two completely different things XD I just wish this wasn't moving so damn slowly, arg.

ditto9 - Atlas puppeh ftw X3 Glad you like it so far, here's hoping I don't kill it :P

KT324 - You'd think it would be popular considering the type of character she is, lol. As long as I'm not making a Highschool one I'm happy to do something with her that age (Cause I would totally bugger up a HS one XD) Haha, I still need to finish Bioshock X3 Stupid schoooool.

Jill Valentine and the Resident Evil franchise belongs to Capcom.

* * *

So much for the weather picking up.

The weather outside only seemed to deteriorate, clouds gathering back in full force, the wind threatening to build back to it's gale force. Taking a glance up at the sky, Jill concluded she'd have an hour tops to remain dry. As nice as the fabric of her jacket was, it would do little against the impending showers of water that would be raining down in that time.

She muttered bitterly to herself before zipping her jacket up, pulling the collar up around her neck. She dragged the sleeve under her nose, sniffing loudly in a vain attempt to clear her airways.

In all honesty, she had probably never known what it was like to be in good health in her entire lifetime. Or, perhaps she had, for that very sort amount of time, but she rathered not remember such a time. She was always either sickly or lacking in something. Vitamins, Body mass, Protein… It was always something.

In between inwardly bitching about the weather, she was trying to pinpoint a place to go. Her brain needed a rest, but her willpower would not grant it that break. Her headstrong personality and inability to admit defeat would make sure of that. There had to be a way – She just hadn't thought of it just yet.

She sighed, breath appearing as a white cloud that hung in the air. Really, she was surprised there was no snow drifting down just yet. The cold weather, frankly, pissed her off. But there was something about snow that made her smile. Making everything some how seem more pure than what it ever was.

Then some how it hit her.

"… David's." She mouthed quietly, mind registering an image of a boarded up, single floor building about a four blocks away. He was a family friend, and hopefully would be able to help in some way, even if it was only a small in comparison to what she was pleading for.

She picked up her pace, shoving her numbing hands into her pockets. With her mind set, nothing was going to stop her. She took no notice of what she was passing, or where. She narrowly avoided being hit once or twice as she crossed roads, not even being shaken from her thoughts when horns sounded and abuse was yelled. Over the years she had learned to drown it out.

However, a hand on her shoulder, softened by the padded fabric, did manage to grab her attention – Even if it was only slightly.

A young woman of the same age, perhaps a bit younger, was the owner of that said hand. She seemed far more durable about the weather, not minding it too much at all. The girl's expression quickly dropped as Jill turned to face her. "What's wrong, Valentine?"

Jill gave a slight smile as a greeting, recognizing the girl as a friend with ease, and feeling somewhat embarrassed that she hadn't seen her first. "It's good to see you too, Emerald." She chuckled, shrugging the hand from her shoulder and turning her body fully to face her, "It's nothing, alright?"

"Jilllll, you're lying to me. You know I can tell." Emerald pouted, palms met behind her back, leaning forward as if trying to intimidate her friend into a confession – And failing quite miserably at doing so. A gazelle trying to frighten a lion.

"Something's just happened." Jill shrugged, taking a step away from her friend. "It's not for you too get involved with, least you feel like putting up with me even more than you already do."

Emerald was one of Jill's old friends, and a good one to have in a place like this town. She had a good heart, which was something that annoyed Jill – For the fact that when something was wrong, she was like a pitbull who wouldn't let go until she knew what it was about. And she had to help, always, even if it put herself out. It was as if Jill had done something for her years before that she felt she had to repay with her life. Nosey? Without a doubt.

"How can I not worry now?" Emerald asked, placing her hands on her hips and raising a brow. "At least soothe my curious soul by telling me what trouble you've dug yourself into."

"Em, it's not your problem. Keep your nose clean of it."

"If it's a problem of my friend then it's my problem, too. Tell me what's up, girl." Yep, she wasn't going to let this one go.

"Just money woes." Jill answered quietly, hoping not to be heard. Dragging her friend into the whole mess just didn't strike her as a good step, no matter how much she wanted to get involved. As good as her intentions could be, there wasn't anyway Emerald could be of help – She was having just as much difficulty living as Jill and her father were.

"Thought you and your dad were savin'." Emerald commented, scratching the back of her head, having to think about it for a moment. "Not that you ever told me what for."

"Apparently we didn't have enough for an emergency." Jill scoffed in reply.

Emerald frowned. The statement did not make her feel any better about it. An emergency now? There were a lot of things that could mean.

"Did your dad get hurt or something? Nothing happened to Atlas, did it? I love that dog." She quizzed, seeming quite distressed at the thought of either situations.

"No, no-one's hurt… Yet."

"… Cops?" Emerald sighed, taking a guess that wasn't as strange as what one might think.

"Sort of."

"Fuck me drunk..." She breathed, shaking her head. "Black mail again?"

"No, got caught. Well, Pop did. Leave it to him to trip over an alarm no-one else could possibly find even with a map to its location." Jill replied, a humourless laugh following as she talked.

"How short are you?"

Jill bit her bottom lip. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, singing 'la la la, I can't hear you', but she was acting childish enough already. "It's none of your b---"

"How short?"

"A friggin' Hundred."

"Maryanne and I can fix that."

"Don't you dare." Jill hissed, glaring at her friend, who cut in before she could say anything else to object to what had been offered.

"Don't be all 'I don't need anyone's help, I can do it on my own' blah blah blah, Missy." Emerald stated sternly, attempting to match Jill's distaste. "I'd be angry at myself if I didn't help, got it? You and your dad… You always had a couch to spare when me or one of the girls needed a place to sleep. I would be just like one of those arseholes on the other side of town if I didn't at least _try_ to help."

Jill pinched the bridge of her nose, the whole situation taking a step she would have much rather avoided. She had it just about solved, she hoped, right before all of this. "Listen, Em…"

A familiar car horn sounded to interrupt the discussion, and the two girls looked to the road. A station wagon, a model Jill neither knew nor cared to pick. Unlike everything around, it seemed somewhat in tact, with windows slightly tinted. The horn sounded once again, making the girls jolt slightly.

Emerald's mouth once again twisted to a frown. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, sighing. "That's my call, I guess." She stated, running her hands over the sides of her hair, trying to return some sort of style and tidiness that the weather had taken away. "Will you still be here in twenty minutes, Jill?"

"I'm ducking by David's place, but I'll try." Jill answered, giving yet another slight shrug. If she made it quick, she could get back by the time things had finished up. Emerald pointed menacingly at her friend in response.

"I'll hold you to it. You're not getting out of it." She warned, though a smile gave away any form or sternness she had worked into her voice. "Remember that!"

Jill gave a nod as her friend straightened out her clothing and walked off to the road. Jill turned to look away, picking up her walking pace again. She took another glance at the sky, pursing her lips together to avoid cursing once again. Her friend would be warm (though certainly not cosy), but if she didn't move quickly there was a downpour with her name on it.

Thankfully the travel only took her five minutes, give or take. Puddles still remained barely faded on the footpath, and only threatened to increase their collection of liquid within time. God, she hated the rain.

She bothered to take a glance both ways of the road, hurriedly jogging across to reach the path set off the corner. That side of the street looked practically abandoned, now unused, and the store she was seeking out was no exception. Just as desiccated, as lifeless as the buildings the packed it into the row.

Her hand rested gently against the door, fingers tapping a light rhythm against the splintered wood. Paint had peeled and rotted from the front of it, damage taken from the painful weather that appeared to love beating against the old store front.

There was masking and electrical tape placed over large holes in the windows, just managing to kept it together- One more crack in the fragile glass and it would shatter completely. Graffiti had been sprayed over the boards fallen from over the doors and areas around the windows – As well as the window itself. Jill faintly knew the tags and who they belong to, but chose not to dwell on it.

Dirt and dust had made it nearly impossible to see whatever was inside. Had a light been inside, there might have been a chance of catching a small glimpse of whatever occupied it. But it was pitch-black inside, warding off anyone who didn't know what it was actually used for.

She took a deep breath, pushing the door open and taking a few steps inside.


	3. He Who Hesitates Is Lost

A/N;

And just so everyone knows, no, it's not David King xD

I think I might go through and add some dates, because there's one event later on I'd like to skip two of three months after =/ Hm. Gotta think haha.

Ditto9 - It's certainly not a pleasant place, lol X3

KT324 - Huzzar for friends, especially in the place Jill live :3 You're probably right... Alas, it's one of those variables that change in each fic of mine haha. In a place that rains so much, I think she'd get sick of it after awhile XD That's my reasoning and I'm sticking to it, lol! Thank you~

Jill Valentine and the Resident Evil franchise belongs to Capcom.

* * *

Her nose scrunched as soon as she picked up the scent inside. The first time it hit you, it was the universal smell of neglect. Dusty, plain, metallic in a way, the temperature reaching an uncomfortable, muggy heat.

But underneath that there was something else. While the room was silent, bar the sound of a dripping tap from a sink in the corner, the smell of the room held some sort of movement. What lingered traveled to you then around, and it would take a few moments to pick it up – If you could recognize it.

Jill closed the door behind her, feeling around the wall for a light switch. Her eyes were taking too long to adapt to the darkness of the room, and would rather restore her vision and finish her errand as quickly as possible.

The light 'click' of the flicked switch echoed through the cold room, light dimming and brightening, on and off before finally settling on a dim glow. One of the fluorescent light lights had blown, leaving only a single dull rod to offer some guidance. She cast her eyes to the ground, looking for just a hint, a small indent – It had been too long, and she wasn't able to remember off by heart the location she was seeking.

"May as well have used invisible paint on the damn thing…" She muttered under her breath.

Just as those words left her mouth, the offered light seemed darkened around an area of the floor. A part of it had come up, and Jill mentally slapped herself for not remembering that rather clear location of the trap door. She crossed her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground as she waited for the person who had opened it – A man in his middle ages.

It was quite clear he hadn't noticed Jill's presence – He was whistling a tune she couldn't place, but reminded her of something by Beethoven, and was carrying a bucket. He'd set it down on the ground as he stepped out off the hide out, dusting himself off and---

"**Holy fuc---!!**"

"Nice to see you too, David." Somehow she couldn't resist teasing the older man as he knocked over the bucket, clutching at his chest as he caught his breath. He glared at her, before breathing out loudly and managing to shake it all off.

"Well if it isn't Valentine's kid! How's your old man?" David asked, not wanting to draw attention to his less than elegant reaction.

She uncrossed her arms, able to hide any hesitation she may have accidentally shown Emerald earlier. "He's fine, fine…" Jill assured him, giving a slight wave of her hand as she did so.

"Well that good to hear. How about you then little lady? You're looking at bit green around the gills." Although she had been able to hide that worry, the stress she was feeling since her father got caught had somewhat devalued her appearance.

"I've been better to say the least." She sighed, pausing for a moment. "Actually, I came to ask a favour."

"Oh, this is trouble calling… What do you need?"

She patted the pockets of her jacket, smiling smugly and shrugging as she looked back to him. "I'm strapped for cash, was wondering if there might be something I can do around the place?" She quizzed.

He hummed for a moment, scratching the back of his head and glancing around the near empty room, as if trying to find an answer within it. Clearly receiving no reply from it, he let his gaze wonder to the trap door, then back to Jill.

"Ahh… You sure about that, Missy? Hate ta dampen your mood, but I don't think we got anything around here, not till next week."

"Damn… I can't wait that long…" Her shoulders immediately sunk as he said this, her expression showing that she was rather let down by this – It was a simple, sullen frown that was directed at no-one in particular. "Thank you though, David."

"But," David butted in quickly, "If ya got the time I can always go down and double check for ya." He motioned to the trap door, which had been thrown wide open when his startled reaction had taken place.

"I'd appreciate it, David."

The path down wasn't very long at all – The floor beneath was simply that – another floor down. By all means Jill simply could have jumped rather than climbed, but at the current time she preferred to have an unbroken ankle, just in case. Such things were usually helpful when in a quiet panic.

A corridor was set out in front as David caught up, taking somewhat of a lead and walking forward, hands stuffed in his pockets. The corridor held a stale smell, lacking anything person yet still remaining slightly sickening in a way.

Jill followed, moving a hand over her nose. There was something about the blank smell that made her feel sickly – Perhaps due to the fact she knew the smell that would follow once the door at the end of the corridor was open. The solid walls echoed back the sounds of footsteps, and the 'click' of the locking mechanism snapping open. Door pushed forward, and more footsteps venturing on.

Jill closed her eyes, trying to prevent them from watering. She wasn't sure if it was the stench itself or the reasons behind the presence. Every moment she spend down below made her heart break – This hadn't changed since she was young and had visited the man with her father. Perhaps it hurt even more now because she knew.

"So how's that mongrel of yours going?" David asked, snapping Jill from her thoughts. She gave a slight nod, an acknowledgement rather than an answer.

"Atlas or my dad?" She quizzed, opening her eyes to make sure she didn't run into anything. The question earned a laugh at her father's expense before she continued. "He's doing good, eating better than me, I swear. And whenever we got someone coming up the hall, he practically tears the door down. He nearly knocked the thing down when I was leaving."

"Ha, fancy that! Sounds like I went and gave away one fuck of a good dog, shame that. That dame of his was a good one, she was."

At least she didn't feel claustrophobia anymore. The room after the hall was a larger one, with many other doors forking off from it. In truth, she didn't know what was behind all – Only a few, and even those she did not care to truly know about. She put the current room down to a preparation room, or an office of some sort… There were two tables set up, one other lying on its side. Papers, some stained and some clean, were taking up residence on the upright tables. A chair, here or there, a few posters to add some colour, and a random plant in the corner – Fake, a real one would be dying of lack of sun by now. Some parts of the walls and floors had been clean. Certain objects were thrown around, most recognizably being chains. Bloodied ones.

"She passed away?" She asked blankly.

"Didn't make it outta the ring last week."

As if on cue the sounds started. Knocking against doors, thrown up against the bars of cages and enclosures. Barks, howls, whimpers, whines… Snarls and the sound of ripping flesh and fur. And that always percent sound of chains and imprisionment.

Jill grimaced at the thought. While she knew it was the way David and his son had chose to keep food on the table, she could never imagine handing over her dog for such a blood sport. As much as she pushed it to the back of her mind, Dog Fighting sickened her to the pit of her stomach.

She wondered to herself for a moment, why she cared more for the sake of the canines of the city than the people that inhabited it half the time. A meager thought, thrown to the back of her mind.

She was thinking about it too much – She had to stop.

"Ah, Sorry honey, looks like we're fine for once."

David had wondered over to one of the tables with the papers on it while her mind had been wondering aimlessly. She snapped her gaze to him, a dazed look represent on her features. Her lips had parted, as if to ask him to repeat the statement, though aware it would sink in after a few moments. She blinked, each word repeating in her mind before she nodded.

"It's fine." She assured him after swallowing a knot in her throat, perhaps caused by the distress she could hear around her, "If you hear of any jobs, do you think you could drop me a line, if it isn't too much?"

"I'll be sure to send Ronnie over." He answered, waving a hand as a partially dismissal, And partially to assure her. He took his turn to pause, shifting through the papers as if reminded of something he had forgotten, a new resolve to get the Valentine girl out of the underground, "Speaking of which, if you got time tomorrow you should let Ronnie give that mutt of yours a look over."

"Alright, I'll have a look for 'em tomorrow." She turned on her heels, shrugging awkwardly as if she was disturbed by the thought. She held nothing against David's son, Ronnie – On the contrary, the two had some form of a friendship, but she was unable to shake off a chill. She quickly muttered a goodbye, retreating with haste.

Leaving the building, part of her was glad to have been denied the opportunity to make a few quick bucks. It would have been at the expense of one of her own, few morals – one which was limited just as much as the rest. But she would have put it aside if it meant she could have helped her father in whatever way, even it Atlas wouldn't sit on her feet for weeks on end.

Sighing gently, she began to walk once more. The whole affair couldn't have lasted too long, and she expected to return to Emerald with time to spare.

She slipped a hand to her shoulder, fingers slinking under the material of her hooded jacket. The straps of her bra had been shifted uncomfortably with her decent down the trapdoor, and she had all due intent on fixing it before it caused anymore of that discomfort. She tossed a slight glare across the street at a few passersby she faintly recognized, as if to warn them off. She shrugged her shoulders, just trying to keep herself occupied. Any lack of thinking would allow her worry to start again, that constricting panic in her chest, the grip of her heart.

She had to believe she could do this.

As she reached the street corner, she took a seat on one of the steps leading to a battered up house. She leaned her head against the railings, closing her eyes and suddenly realizing her body was aching for sleep. The stinging from earlier, and the similar threat of her body to cry, and oh, the stress… It had worn her out more than she had chosen to acknowledge.

She pushed up closer against the railings, as if trying to find some fort of comfort with something pushing back on her. It was something she did, on occasions craved, but never made known. Human touch was less than welcome in this world. Her world.

When you got close to someone, all you do is crash into them. Experience had taught her that the only thing you came out of it with was bruises and stitches, a few broken bones here or there. All loss and no gain.

Jill opened her eyes, arguing silently with herself to stop thinking in such ways. All throughout the day she had been thinking less than desirable thoughts, of the more unusual kind. The events had unsettled her and shaken what she had considered her safe ground. She was completely, and hopelessly…

"Welcome back."

She looked up, letting her body ease. Taking a deep breath, she stretched, before returning to a stand. Something about being looked down upon unsettled her greatly. Shoving her hands in her pants pockets, she got straight to it.

"I'm going to figure something out, Emerald." Seeing signs of the girl's rebuttal, she went on quickly. "Look. I appreciate it, I really do Emerald. But I can't accept that form of help. You know me, Em. Listen. If I don't have the money in a week, then I'll buckle and let you _lend_ me the money, alright?"

Her friend's expression was not one of a pleased emotion. Accepted defeat, but not without being grumpy about it. "Fine," Emerald's word seemed somewhat forced, having been so determined to repay the girl somehow. "But I swear to god you better keep it, Or I'm gonna take a wrench to you as you sleep, got it? Cause you know that dog of yours won't be bothered by lil' old me."

A quick subject change before her friend decided to take up arms once again. "Well, I'm going to go visit dad before they have better excuses to kick me out."

Emerald's expression quickly turned to one of disgust at the thought of where he would be. Surrounded by pompous, jackarse, sexist pigs. And those weren't the other people being kept in the building. "Bring your gun and shoot one of them in the foot for me."

"Which one?"

"Any of 'em, they're all cocksuckers."

"I meant which gun?" Jill smiled, something unnervingly confident in her expression. The smile dropped as she tilted her head, giving a look of concern to her friend. "you alright, Em?"

Emerald simply nodded, pausing for a moment to wipe the side of her mouth, embarrassed. "M'kay, Jill. Promise." She assured her, though saw her friend's expression refrain from letting up, "… Job don't get any easier with each client. It's a living though."

Jill placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, whom was rather confused as to whether this was meant in a form of confrontation or comfort.

"It's lonely at home, just me and Atlas. You come by sometime for the night, alright?"

Emerald nodded in reply, but didn't raise her eyes from the ground as she heard her friend's footsteps heading off to a direction neither were thrilled about – The direction that lead to the local Police Station. She breathed in heavily, before looking off to the side to grab a glimpse of Jill's back. She knew that it wasn't her asking to have company for a night – It was Jill demanding she had a safe place to spend the night. Despite the woman's strong hatred, she still managed to be such a mother duck – And Emerald couldn't put into words how much she valued that sincere loyalty.

* * *

A/N;

Oh, I mentioned it on my dA but not here (and some people didn't pick up on it until I did), I think I should point out the fact that Emerald's a prostitute. So is Maryanne, but she hasn't made her appearance yet lol.


End file.
